


it's enough

by sweaterweathr



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Super Mild, eehhhh idk, in which i have no idea what a plot is just mindless introspection, mild ref to abuse/violence/torture, spontaneous rooftop naps, this is mostly just neil being sappy and in love w andrew tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterweathr/pseuds/sweaterweathr
Summary: In which Neil loses himself to his thoughts and Andrew pulls him back as always





	

In his 19 years of life Neil Josten had concerned himself with one thing: survival. He knew the concept like he knew every ugly blemish that marred his torso, like he knew the insistent need to  _ get out of there _ perpetually lodged in his throat, like he knew the feel of cold steel against warm flesh  _ again again again _ . That is to say he knew what it meant to survive intimately so. Neil knew how to shoot a man to make him bleed out without fatality and he knew how to kill a man without leaving a trace. The  _ snik _ of a lock successfully picked, the consuming smoke and fire in his lungs, in his throat, on his tongue, the ricochet of a bullet and the resounding finality of the resultant echo were all sensations Neil had familiarised himself with over the years. Fear was something that had woven itself between Neil’s fingertips, burned behind eyes and weighted down his tongue. Intimacy meant feeling his mother’s heartbeat roaring in his ears on those nights it was too close, it was the back of his mother’s hand and the side of his face when he looked too long, it was Lola’s breath on his neck, hot and heavy.

Well, Neil considered as he felt the familiar crunch of the rooftop gravel underneath his fingers.

It  _ was _ , before...

Calloused fingers digging into his face snapped Neil’s attention back from his memories as gold met ice and his senses were flooded with  _ Andrew Andrew Andrew. _

“Where are you Neil?”

It wasn’t a question, it was  _ come back to me, you aren’t there anymore you are Neil Abram Josten and I’m never letting you go.  _  The absolute sincerity of it jarred Neil and he could only follow as Andrew’s intense gaze shifted from him to the fist Neil hadn’t realised he’d clenched. He loosened his grip. He met Andrew’s eyes.

Andrew Minyard existed in prolonged silences and secrets. He communicated through significant looks and a climbing percentage, through a squeeze to Neil’s neck and a ‘yes or no?’ mumbled into Neil’s lips. With every bruising caress, and every eyeroll and insult Neil was relearning what it meant to be intimate. Touch wasn't a preemptive to a blade, a shared bed didn't mean his father was near and home wasn't a cold house with cold hearts and a cold gate barricading the world out _.  _ Home could mean security, it could mean family, and it could mean love. Neil had to keep himself from scoffing at the idea. A year ago, ‘love’ was his mother’s burning corpse and his father carving his skin. Somehow the foxes had engraved themselves into Neil’s life, picked away at all his defenses, seen beneath his lies, and accepted him anyway. They made Neil Josten a truth and for once the truth didn’t hurt.

“Abram,”

Neil must have fallen victim to his thoughts once again for Andrew was now on his knees, facing Neil with a hint of a furrow in his brow. It took him a moment to realise Andrew must’ve called his name several times to reach Abram, the core of what Neil was.

Once Andrew realised Neil had returned he leveled him with an unimpressed glare.

“You’re a mess,” his voice was as disdainful as his eyes but Neil knew Andrew and Andrew knew Neil. What a strange feeling; to be known. Was it supposed to feel like a warmth in his stomach?

“What? No increase in percentage? What am I at now? Must be 147% by now, I mean, you said you hate me no less that 4 times today,” Neil teased feeling the side of his mouth twitch as he dragged his eyes over Andrew’s features. A scowl. Back into the realm of familiarity.

“I could just push you over the edge,” It was a debate they’d had a hundred times before and Neil revelled in the familiarity.

Andrew edged closer.

“Hmm, the more you threaten me like that the less impact it has,” Andrew’s hands were on his shoulders, “3/10 for originality Mr Minya-oof!” 

Andrew shoved Neil against the cool gravel and loomed over him, broad shoulders blocking the evening sunlight, casting a golden halo in Andrew’s hair. He could, however, only take a moment to appreciate the irony before Andrew’s next cutting words.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Mm no, I’ve heard someone likes my mouth just the way it is,”

There was a split-second in which Neil could feel Andrew’s breath on his lips and it was electricity, fire, hope and  _ gone _ .

“Dick,”

“Go to sleep, junkie,” he muttered as he pulled himself off Neil and settled next to him, bathing in the sunset.

“It’s 5pm,”

“Sh, sleeping people don't speak Neil,” despite his closed eyes and poker face, there was that unmistakeable arrogance and finality in Andrew’s tone and Neil could only marvel in the soft hues that engulfed his boyfriend. A sharp jawline was softened by pinks and oranges dancing on his skin, light kissing his freckles and in that moment Andrew was ethereal. Before he could stop himself, Neil reached out a hand, desperate to touch, to caress, _ to make sure Andrew was still real and still there.  _ He paused, a hair's-breadth away, because there hadn’t been a yes or no, Andrew’s eyes were still shut and Neil wouldn't take that choice, that simplicity from Andrew. He wouldn't be like them.

A breath.

Another.

A gulp.

A shaky ‘yes’ sighed into to cool evening.

A brush of rough fingertips against warm skin.

Neil was drowning in Andrew, in the feel of security, of stability, in home and belonging and  _ you are Neil Abram Josten and I’m never letting you go. _

Neil Josten had been relearning what intimacy meant. It means these nights on the roof with Andrew. It meant sharing touches, looks, and oxygen. It meant exposing himself, raw and true, and being accepted whole heartedly. Perhaps most significantly, Neil supposed, it meant the absolute security and trust he shared with Andrew, there was no room for doubt, there were no lies. There was nothing but Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard and in that moment, Neil thought with a quiet satisfaction he had not known before, that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> this is super old and unedited and idek whats happening but i just wanted to put something on ao3   
> find me on tumblr @axdreil (how do you add a link on here??)


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